Unnatural Selection
by Erin-Starlight
Summary: When a stranger from the original X-Mens' past comes back to seek revenge the other X-Men are left in the dark. Who is this man and why aren't the originals or Xavier talking?
1. Unwanted Visitor

This story has to be my most ambitious one to date that I never had the nerve to try before but **CailleachBeare** conned me into doing it. :P I will be changing the rating to R shortly as it will deal with mature themes later on. This will be a dark fic but I do not intend to write anything too graphic. If that changes (which I don't think it will) you will be forewarned. And special thanks to **Beaubier** for braving my chapter.

**Chapter 1: Unwanted Visitor**

The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning

1407 Graymalkin Lane 

Salem Center, New York 

_The Promised Land for the wide eyed, naïve outcasts ofsociety. Utopia, for the misguided fools with delusions of normality among an increasingly violent civilization. It's tragic really_, the man thought glancing around the complex, _that so many believe in such lies_

His eyes flickered over the many students. They all looked so comfortable and content…it really didn't seem fair. There were so many it was almost overwhelming. On another occasion, he would have welcomed the challenge. But he was older now, and he knew it would be better if he didn't get distracted. Not when there was a specific purpose to fulfill. 

He was about to drive the van further along the road when a short, plump woman rushed out in front of him waving wildly. Biting down his annoyance, he reluctantly released the accelerator. 

"Excuse me," the woman cried shrilly, "but may I seesome identification? Not just anyone can come in here." Giving one of his most charming smiles the man feigned bashfulness. "Where is my head these days? …Ah yes,here you g--" The woman snatched his ID away eyeing it suspiciously. After studying it at least a dozen times, much to his irritation, she stared back at him. 

"We usually get are groceries delivered by Greg. Why are you here?" 

"I'm just filling in for him, ma'am. Greg seems to bea little off color today." 

"Alright then, but I insist on supervising you. We have far too many mishaps at this school." She huffed. 

"Of course." He replied smoothly. The pair went together to the 'loading area', though not in silence.The woman had introduced herself as Mrs. Talbot after which she began her ranting. About how she hated the way the school was run and so forth. He half-listened,vaguely aware of what she was saying, tightening his hold of the wheel to stop his hands from twitching. 

"--And I said that it was distasteful! The man's wife had just died and he starts 'seeing' THAT harlot--" 

He took deep calming breaths… 

"--the way she dresses is disgraceful! In front of the children no less! And she actually has the nerve to wear white…" 

Inhaling, exhaling, inhaling… 

"--not that it makes much sense. I ask you, do you think it's responsible to have these students live with them?! Totally reckless…" 

The man was only to glad when it came time for him tounload the van. "Now, now, step aside. I have to make certain the food is…" Mrs. Talbots' voice died when her eyes fell on the limp figure lying awkwardly inside the van. 

"Oh my lord!" The man met her horror stricken stare head on, regarding her mildly. "Yes, ma'am?" 

"G--Greg –y--y--you …" 

"I did tell you that he was a little…off color." Mrs.Talbot made to rush past him, but was blocked at the last second. "So sorry my dear lady, but I can't allow for you to spoil this for me." He casually brushed her cheek, silencing her in the process. "Can I?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Henry McCoy was truly bored. Which was a strange occurrence in it's self as he was most often to be found overworked. Yet nothing seemed to need his attention. No students were hurt or required assistance, no projects to hold his interest, not even a dust mite to battle. One team was off on the otherside of the world, and Emma Frost was dealing with 'personal matters.' in Boston. 

"Alas, I have great trepidation I have viewed this Passions episode before." He sighed heavily, "…and what thoughtless person has taken the last of the Twinkies?" Hank grumbled, tossing the empty container over his shoulder to land into the wastebasket. "I suppose I should reconsider letting students know where my sacred stash is." 

"Only you would think of a box of Twinkles as a 'sacred stash', Hank." Warren commented from the doorway. "And only you would be chatting to himself out loud." Warren grinned entering the lab. 

"As I recall my dear feathered friend, you had a quite talkative nature when you came here. Didn't you also model in front of the mirror?" 

"A lot of people do that." 

"True but not many use pick up lines as well." Hank countered. 

"I was practicing--" 

"Of course you were." 

"Anyway," Warren said with such forcefulness that the other knew the topic had ended, "I need to see Bobby.We were both in the library earlier--" Hank made an insincere gasp of shock that his friend pointedly ignored. "--and I can't find my portfolio. I think he might have taken it instead."

"Is anything important missing?" Hank asked with some concern. He knew all too well how eager certain people were to take over Worthington Industries. Three particular times came to mind, and none of them were too pleasant. He even shuddered to think what would happen if those files should fall into the hands of astudent. 

"Just the annual reports. I was going to go over the figures this morning, but I got distracted by the headlines." To emphasize his point the winged mutant flung the newspaper over to his friend. At first it was hard to tell what was amiss, as it just looked like a normal edition of the Daily Bugle. As usual there was a dramatic shot of Spider-Man with the words 'menace' in bold next to an article by J. JonahJameson. That was before he caught the phase 'mutants die in blaze.' 

"Apparently the Purity has been feeling very daring lately." Warren muttered grabbing himself a cup of the labs' ever-present coffee. His blue eyes had darkened and his stance seemed to take on a more tense form reminding Hank ironically enough of a cat ready to spring. 

"B--but they were just children!" Hank suddenly blurted out, scanning the column. The other halted his restless pacing and gave his friend a scowl. The blue furred mutant tried not to shudder as the shadows of the lab gave his long time friend a more sinister appearance. At times like these it was easy to remember that this man had once been Apocalypse's horseman, Death. 

"Do you really think that mattered to them?" He gave no reply. They both knew the answer all too well."Well…" Warren, having composed himself, started a trek towards the window. "I've decided to hold another meeting or two. With Scott and the others…as well aswith my board." 

"Are you proposing that we use our public 'outed' mutant status?" 

"Yes. I'm not sure how much good it will do…but I haveto try." He paused chancing a glance over his shoulder. "Will you help me with this Hank? I mean you were an Avenger--" Hank chuckled. 

"I will indeed assist your noble cause, but only because my adoring admirers can not get enough of me." 

"…Or I could just ask Jean-Paul."

--------------------------------------------- 

"This is not fair!" Jubilee fumed. "I'm not a kid anymore; I don't deserve to be treated like this! I have been an X-Man since I was--" Her companion made to speak but she wouldn't allow him to do so."Nuh-huh, I'm talking here Frenchy so no interruptions!" 

Ignoring his protest that he was not French and a snide remark about Americans she continued. "Just because I got a MINOR injury everybody thinks I need a babysitter!" 

Jean-Paul Beaubier fought the urge to sigh. The girl was being difficult. Not that he wasn't used to it by now-- most of his class had been especially rowdy lately, which was only increasing his massive headache. 

"I am not your babysitter, but I'll be too happy to get you one if you don't stop acting like a child!" He winced at the sound of his own slightly raised voice. 

_Mon dieu. It's getting worse,_ he thought. 

"How are ya'll doing in here?" Rogue asked. Jean-Paul shot her the closest thing to a pleading look he could manage. It was beneath his dignity to actually beg but he was getting desperate. Chuckling, she handed him a small bottle of aspirin. He raised an eyebrow. 

"How did you know?" 

"Call it a lucky guess. Ah saw a couple of your kids today." His brow furrowed. 

"They bought a kegger with them into my class, Rogue." 

"Aw, lighten--" "A kegger AND one of those annoying…." He wracked his mind for the correct term, "'boom boxes'! They blared that 'music' listening about…" Jean-Paul pulled a disgusted face. "…'Pimpin' 'os and takin' on the man.'" Rogue and Jubilee snickered and the speedster glared before downing the pills with a glass of water. 

"Oh come on, don't you think it's funny? Even a little?" Rogue asked. 

"Non, I do not. I have taken time out of my day to teach them. I do not like to have it wasted. If they want to end up losing money by ignoring the facts I'm sure Worthington could give them some pointers." 

"Hey!" Jubilee exclaimed. "The birdman can take care of his business! Who are you--" 

"I invested money in his company, and lost." Jean-Paul retorted bitterly. "If everyone at this school treated their jobs like he does his then we'd all be dead by now."

------------------------------------------------------------------ 

The lock wasn't as complex as he had expected. Strange that so many devices were used just to ensure their safety yet the lock to the headmaster's office was a simple padlock. 

_Ah, but that's simple Scott Summers for you._

Despite the elaborate security systems he had pasted unnoticed into the heart of the X-Mens' lair. He had to appreciate the humor in the situation. Obvious these 'heroes' had expected some type of blunt attack from their foes; they would never suspect such subtlety. Taking a seat behind the computer, he pondered the best course of action. Personal files or something more? What little information he had gleaned prior to this excursion would not be enough. He had to know more, but he was restricted, at the moment, by time. 

The blank computer screen came to life at the merest of taps at the keys. Summers user name came up but a password was needed. These systems were said to be high tech, created by such geniuses as this a man named 'Forge.' They were, for the most part, foolproof. To enter the system he had need of Summer's password. 

_It won't be anything as simple as a loved ones name or __birth date. Not consciously anyway. It would be__something of great importance through._

He typed in 'Phoenix.'

'Access denied.' 

'Reborn' 

'Access denied.' He paused then smirked. 

'911980.' After he was denied access again he rearranged the numbers slightly. 

'Access Granted.' 

"Predictable as always Cyclops" 

A/N: 9 1 1980 was actually the date Madeline Pryor gave Scott, saying it was the day she survived a plane crash. It was actually the first day she lived, the day Phoenix killed herself.


	2. Uncertainties

Special thanks to the wonderful **Beaubier****, **who did the unthinkable and beta read my chapter. 

**Anything but ordinary3**: Thanks! I'm glad you like it so far. Ah, X-Factor! I adore old X-Factor issues. Since I'm not thrilled with the way certain characters are being written in canon (Iceman, Cyclops) I'm rereading those issues as well. I miss the family feel to the X-Men. But to answer your question, no the man in question is not Cameron Hodge. As much as I love giving a nod to the old school stories I do not plan on writing Mr. Hodge anytime in the near future. LOL! Mrs. Talbot is based on Mrs. Molly Weasly from Harry Potter, the mother who let's her opinions be known. I am looking forward to writing the 'other' X-Men. Though I have to admit that so far JPs' been the most fun to write. 

**Ducky: **I have to agree that there are not enough fics about the original X-Men. So since I can't find many I just write my own. I hope you like the rest of the story. 

****

**ighted eagle: **Thank you. I try to update regularly. 

**Chapter 2: Uncertainties**

Scott Summers was not in a good mood. Four members of one team were injured, Jean-Paul had been complaining on the state of the school, again, and the children were being infuriating lately. Needless to say, he was quite pleased that they had a school break starting the next day. It had been awhile since he had been able to relax, as that required that he let his guard slip. He hadn't allowed himself that luxury for sometime. 

"Hey Scott!--" The said mans' turned abruptly about the empty hallway. 

"Uh…Cyclops?" Kitty Pryde lowered herself from the ceiling, gracefully landing a few feet away. 

_You're losing it Summers if you're caught off guard this easily. You should know better than letting yourself get lost in your own thoughts,_ Scott silently chastised himself. 

"Yes Kitty?" She gave him a quick searching glance taking in his damaged uniform. 

"How are things going?" She asked as nonchalantly as she could. "With the training I mean." 

"Not so well. These outdoor training sessions are far too reckless; I think I prefer to have the situation controlled better." He hadn't particularly enjoyed being on the receiving end one student's explosive panic attack. The girl was too used to the idea of staying inside away from the 'flatscans'-- to the point where the outside world frightened her. 

"Any luck with the new settings?" Scott inquired. She shrugged. 

"There's nothing else I can do till I have that new chip Forge made installed. Until then the Danger Room is off limits." He frowned. 

"Then why didn't you install it?" Kitty's eyes narrowed, not liking the tone she was being addressed with. It reminded her of a certain Professor's condescending manners when she had been demoted to the New Mutants. She hated that annoying tone with a passion… 

"I didn't install it," Kitty said with false patience, "because we don't have it." 

"Yes, we do," He corrected, "I sent you the memo when it arrived. It was--" 

"I checked and no one has seen it." She interjected, obviously furious that he couldn't seem to understand. "Now if you don't mind, I have a class to look after." 

"…Right…" He muttered more to himself than her. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

The man smiled, satisfied, at the screen before him After a few minutes of hacking, he had been able to set up the system so he could access it from any computer. Including a laptop, which would make it harder for them to locate him once their little game began anew. There were many things he had to take into account when dealing with the X-Men. The first being the school grounds, though that was no longer an issue. He had memorized all the entrances and exists before he left… 

_Oh no, I will not be reminded of that now._ He chided himself, trying not to shudder with revulsion. 

The second task, however, would prove more enjoyable. Learning about the newbies. Who they were, what they were capable of, and who was currently at the mansion. Since securing a position out of harm's way to do his hacking he had learned much. The X-Men had grown, increasing in number since he had last seen them. Not only were there three actual teams, but mutant teachers as well. 

_This doesn't seem to bode well for me_. Not that it worried him, far from it, he was more amused than upset. It wasn't as if he would be foolish enough totake them all on at once-- not yet. But it was interesting, none the less. And such fascinating recruits Xavier has picked. A couple of thieves, former enemies and a ruthlesskiller. _My this__, Wolverine seems intriguing. I do __wonder__ how the boys feel about having him around._

Checking the names on the 'away' team again he did a double take before pulling up the file on one of the mutants. 

**_Marvel Girl_**

**_Real Name: Rachel Anne "Ray" Summers_**

His eyes widened as he read on. It was confusing enough to figure out how Cyclops had a daughter of that age (he hadn't been gone THAT long) but the thought of other realties was a bit much. After he had finished his job he'd attempt to understand the complex nature of the Summers family, but at the moment it gave him a headache. 

"Well it seems at least a few of you have been hurt recently." He mused taking in the medical record. "Ah,and a leader as well, Storm…" 

What ever he was about to think was forgotten as a loud screaming issued from the corridors. Cursing this horrible turn of luck he bought up a screen to see what the monitors from the hallways were filming. Five evidently drunk young men stumbled about made an effort to screech along with some strange lyrics. Both the singing and the horrible noises they were yelling along with sounded atrocious to his ears. He was uncertain, but he guessed it was meant to be music. If so, it was strange how much it had changed since he had last heard it. He vaguely recalled it being at least intelligible. 

Though he was sorely tempted to teach those children a lesson about aggravating their elders' nerves, he refrained. They were not important and would be gone soon enough. They all would leave the mansion tomorrow and he would have a clear field to work out his plans. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Ororo was troubled. Most would say that was nothing out of the ordinary but that was not exactly true. She did get upset with how things were faring for Mutant/Human relationships, and the hard choices being the leader forced her to make. Yet she had always felt some hope before. Kitty would have distracted her, or Jean would have teased her, and she would have forgotten. For awhile at least. 

The decisions were no longer so clear-cut now that they could be avoided so easily. The black and white that had defined Magneto and Charles Xaviers' dreams had turned gray. How far was too far? At what price would peace be achieved? Or would they all end up fools in the end? 

Ororo sighed, and with the smallest flick of her wristthe small rain cloud she had created moved along tothe rose brushes. 

"S'thing bothering you darling?" A gruff voice asked from behind. Not bothering to turn to face him she continued her work as if uninterrupted. 

"What makes you believe that my friend?" 

"The sky fer one thing." She glanced up briefly, slightly irritated, as always, that she had let her emotions affect her so. 

_Though_, she thought humorlessly_, it does reflect my concerns well_. The heavens stubbornly remained gray. 

"Do you mind if I ask you a question my friend?" Logan shrugged. "Lady's' choice." He said before taking a puff of his cigar. 

She hesitated uncertain how to ask such a question. Or even if she really wanted to hear the reply she knew would come. Regaining her resolve Ororo faced him.The effort of making such as a normally simple movement caused her to wince slightly as a new kind of pain erupted from her spine. It was a token of her last mission that flared up every now and then. This time she chose to ignore it, in hope that he would too. 

"In truth there are two questions I wish to ask you. Though I know the first is moot." She remarked regally. Logan gave her a subtle look to indicate for her to continue. "Have I changed so much from the woman you first met?" 

He was silent for an unnerving moment, gazing ather in a mildly puzzled way. "'Course you changed 'Ro.We all have."

"Is it for the better?" She asked quietly. 

"That you changed or that all of us have?" 

"Both I imagine." 

"Yeah. In most cases, I'd say so. We've all been thrown through the wringer but we've come back stronger." 

Ororo glanced back at the school. It really had changed so much over the years, almost as if it mirrored it's occupants. Still, no matter how many times it has been destroyed it was always rebuilt. 

_Raising from the ashes_, she smiled wistfully. "Do--" 

Logan's sudden movement halted her. His body tensed as he sniffed the air heavily. 

"'Round up the troops 'Ro, looks like we got trouble." 

Next Chapter: What has Wolverines' nose found? What's the intruder up to? And if I can fit it in next chapter, where is Bobby Drake?


End file.
